A night out with an old friend
by Drunk Nick guy
Summary: Just a little thing I started writing for /co/ because some dick got drunk before telling everyone he worked at Disneyland or some shit as a character actor. This, is a documentary retelling of that night.
1. Chapter 1

Another aggravating day working your shitty job down that shitty little coffee shop down in Sahara Square. You huff, and sigh to yourself as yet another day rolls by where literally nothing interesting happens. Customer is a dick because he's late for work or some shit and takes it out on the cashier, repeat a few dozen times until you can leave.

It's the Zootopian dream isn't it? You can be anything you want, after all. Not your choice to work there, but it's better than being out on the streets trying to hustle people out of small change. Slightly.

"At least this is steady." You say to yourself, already making excuses as to why you're stuck there. 'Course it isn't ideal. I mean, you're alive aren't you? You've got a little apartment to yourself. A shitty, one bedroom apartment.

All this you're thinking in the mere few second as you lock up the store for the night. You turn, and are greeted with a sight that you've grown accustomed to since you started working these hours. A street with dwindling amount of citizens. And the sun is just about to start going over the horizon, though there's still plenty of light to go around. Of course, no streets will ever be fully empty in Zootopia. City that never sleeps, and all that. Mostly due to the bats that live around here, but yknow.

You stuff your hand into a pocket, and fish around for your phone. Pulling it out, you press the little button which causes it to light up your face and chest as you look into the screen. 6:07PM. You had no real reason to check the time, of course. At this point it's just compulsion. It'd be weirder not to every now and then.

You get ready to return the phone to its resting place and make your way back to your apartment when a ringing sound suddenly snaps you back to focus. The bright blue screen had changed, and the phone was vibrating. Someone was calling.

It was Nick.

You hadn't spoken to Nick in a couple weeks. He was an old friend of yours, a friend that you'd met quite a few years ago now. What, 18, 19 years maybe? Can't remember exactly, but you suppose that that's how all long term relationships get after a while. Not boring, but... Boring, actually. Complacent, maybe?

But yes, Nick was calling. You tap the 'answer' icon and raise the phone to meet your ear. His voice sounded distant and low quality because, yknow, phones, but it was good to hear from him again.

"Hey Nick. How you been man?"

"Oooh, yknow how it is. I'm- I'm hanging in there, and all that. Just got me a pretty good haul. I started working with Finnick- you remember him don't you? He has this great new setup, he has the whole thing planned out. Pawpsicles, melting stuff, dressing him up as a baby, my three favorite things."

You always liked the way Nick spoke. Every time he'd open his mouth, what would come out would always be fluid, charming, clever. You thought for the longest time that he'd had to have preplanned all the interactions he has, somehow. But no, not really. That's just the way he is. The only major thing you didn't like about him, is his career choice.

"Oh yeah dude? Sounds like, uh.. A great.. Thing."

"Oh for sure it is man! But, hey, I know how you feel about all that stuff, so I'm not gonna bother you with the finer things life. I was just calling up to ask, if your weren't busy with your square job that is, if you'd wanna go out and get a drink later?"

You smirked. You couldn't remember the last time you two went to a bar and had a few together. Actually, you pretty much can't remember any of the times you two went to a bar and had a few together. Most likely to due all the said drinking.

Lemme tell ya, not sure if it's a fox thing or not, but when Nick goes out for a drink, he doesn't wanna stop himself until he's certain he's gonna have a hard time walking home. The countless memories of the times you two stumbled, shoulder to shoulder, back to his place, trying desperately to not pass out and eat the pavement, were all coming back to you.

All the times you ended up crashing on his couch.

Shit, when was the last time you did that? Must've been a couple years ago, at least. Nowadays, you're both adults and stuff, guys don't really, yknow, spend the night at each others houses anymore.

You tried not to sound too excited.

"Sure thing dude, wanna just meet me there, or what's up?"

"You know it my friend. 6:45 sound good? Out of all the things we'll forget in our time, you'd never forget our favorite watering hole would you?"

Everything he said was rhetorical, of course. Of course you'd be there at 6:45, and of course you'd never forget the Brewster.

You couldn't help but beaming a full smile at this point as you drifted slowly down the sidewalk. By now you were pretty close to your apartment. However, you knew that if you took a left at this intersection, it'd be headed straight to you and Nick's old stomping grounds.

The old, little bar on the street corner didn't look like much these days. Truth be told, it never looked like much of anything, least of all inviting. A small, square, concrete looking building. One small window, and that's right next to the door. The plain, wooden door that sat right under the only other landmark on the gray slate- the neon purple glowing sign that proudly presented the name 'The Rooster Brewster'. It even seemed like it was actually working now, one of the surely many new additions this establishment would hold since the last time you've been there.

It was just like you remembered. Brown. Pretty much everything was brown. The few booths were brown, the tables were brown. The floors and walls were oddly enough- brown. The bottles behind the counter were many, varying, interesting shades of brown, hell, a couple might've even been clear with a brown liquid inside! The cushions on the seat were a dark, depressing green, though, which certainly added that real Brewster flare that you and Nick loved in days since passed.

You don't really remember why this became 'your place' back in the day. Thinking back on then, a lot of the things you two did back then seemed completely illogical compared to what you'd do now. Like, for example, loving this place so much. Though, even now, you couldn't help but feeling a bit nostalgic seeing how little has changed from the fond memories.

Your eyes scanned the room. Two dudes, two rhinos, rather, sitting at one of the booths conversing quietly. Three girls, squirrels they looked like, were conversing not so quietly at one of the tables nearer to the door. None of them were particular lookers to you, but a couple of friends laughing and having a good time was a sight for sore eyes, if nothing else. Your eyes flicked up to the bar, and you saw old Crookshank still wiping down the counter. He looked a little older, a little more shriveled, but he's been working here as long as you've been coming, and a lot longer than that. Surprisingly enough, he was a chicken. Sorry, a ~rooster~. He used to be real anal about that.

You glanced a bit to the right of him and saw what you were looking for- Nick. Sat at the bar, assuming the 'disinterested' position as he seemed to drone on to the barman, who was only partially listening. You stride on up right beside him, nobody in the bar even turning to see who it was that came in.

You plonked yourself down in the seat to the right, next to Nick. The old, rickety barstool squeaked a little as you swiveled into it. The sudden loud sound alerted Nick to come out of his conversational trance, and he swiftly flicked his eyes to meet yours, seeing you for the first time in weeks, maybe even months. Crookshank took this time to tactically move himself to a different section of the bar now that Nick was taking a breather.

Yes, the barrage was turned to you. When you came in, he was slouched, back towards the door. He didn't look, sad, per say. Just tired after a long day of, presumably, 'work'. Though, the second your eyes met, and you saw the green circling his pupils, he lit up like a candle. Ears suddenly perked, eyes widened, happy to see you. Even now, after all these years, he seemed so full of energy at the prospect of another night washed away with a friend.

"Anon!" He says, drawing your name out ever so slightly as a greeting. "Fashionably early as always. Though, you'd have to wake up pretty early at night to get one over on a fox."

He smirks his usual satisfied grin, and extends his arms out a bit to either side, facing you. You are now sitting maybe a foot away from him.

Oh shit.

Was he going for a hug? Or, maybe he was just gesturing towards you in that non-specific way people do. It's not exactly uncommon for Nick to occasionally do things like that, but you wouldn't call him a 'touchy feely' kind of fox. Usually he does all the emotional stuff starts AFTER you start drinking.

But, here he was? You think it over in your head. 'If I'm misinterpreting this it'll be super awkward, but if I'm not, and he is going for it and I don't return, I'll feel like a huge dick.' Could you say no to those eyes?

Fuck it, goin for it.

...

It was super awkward. You leaned in, and wrapped your arms around him. It wasn't something you did much anymore. Almost as soon as you did it, you realized it was a mistake when he didn't return it at first. You could feel the hesitation in him, and felt the hot blush immediately flowering into your cheeks. You were about to pull away and try to salvage the situation, maybe pretend you fell or something, when he seemed to shrug, and gingerly return it. His lasted for maybe 2 seconds before he let you go, signaling you to do the same.

You leaned back, and you were staring at each other again. The embarrassment of the atrocity of a social faux pas you just committed would surely never be forgiven, you should just kill your-

His confused, quizzical look faded almost instantly. The corner of his mouth turned upwards, and he was once again beaming his trademark confident Nick Wilde smirk.

"Geez anon, you just sat down. Usually you wait till AFTER you start drinking to get all emotional on me."

Your mind scrambled like a rabid dog, reaching for dear life for the nearest witty line you could throw back at him. Against Nick, it was a race that you always lost. Taking the 0.0002 seconds of your silence as a victory, he continued to tease you in that oh so smug way he always does.

"Didn't even say 'Hi' either before jumping all over me. You always were bad at breaking the ice.. Can't blame you though, I mean, look at me."

'Thank fuck' you thought. You were glad he was playing it off with his usual humor. It could've turned very awkward very fast. You always feel the need to never mess things up like that, especially not around him. Maybe it's because of how charming he is. He never stumbles on his words, never misreads a gesture like you just did. Now was your chance to redeem yourself. Get back at him with something really clever.

You open your mouth, fully intent on sending all that smugness right back at him.

Except you draw a blank.

You sit, poised to react to what he said with a witty response that never came. Mouth clearly ready to spring open and retort, and you're drawing a damn blank. After another second of last ditch brainstorming leads to nothing you simply try to smile and respond with the simplest and most effective response you could muster.


	2. Chapter 2

"Well..."

He looked at you, expectantly. Fuck. You really weren't gonna get out of this one, were you? Can't awkward your way out of it this time, do or die, he's expecting you to say something. His slight grin, a grin that just screamed 'got you' forced you to speak, even though you had literally nothing to hit him back with. So, you defaulted. Defaulted to a default that was so default that it was actually almost clever because of how lame it is. Almost. Could even be construed as a joke.

"Well..." You reiterate. "At least I'm not a fox."

His stare bores into your eyes as he sits still, trying to interpret how lame that response really was. He smiles, then placed his hand over his heart with a mock hurtful expression. Eyebrows quirked, a small, half giggle escape his mouth before he responds.

"Oh, that was a good one right there. Think of that one yourself? I'll tell ya, I'm gonna have to write that one down when I get home."

You wave our hand dismissively. "Ah whatever dude, I never claimed to be the more clever of us two, now did I?" Save face, if you can't win, at least make it look like you don't care that you lost.

He gave you one last look of satisfaction at the exchange before turning back to the bar.

"Well, at least you admit it." He says as he turned away from you, gesturing to Crookshank to come this way. You don't bother try rebutting. Ya got decimated the moment you sat down, nothing you could do about it now.

However, now that the situation had been thoroughly damage controlled, you too turned to the bar. Resting your elbow on the counter, resting your hands on either opposite elbow. You were sort of zoning out as Nick ordered you two the first drinks for that night while you just stared at the many bottles on the shelves behind the bar. You didn't have to bother with what you wanted, it's been an unspoken rule for many eons that whoever invited the other out, the first round is on them. And, cmon, Nick would know what you two's favorites opening shot always was.

The burning sensation left your tongue quickly enough to not bother you, but it chasing down your throat and settling into your stomach is what always get you with the first one. The 'cinnamon' flavor almost entirely overpowered by the alcohol itself. The Fireball whiskey felt like a, uh, fireball down your gullet and into your belly. And, after an almost simultaneous wince and a shudder from the both of you, you smacked the tiny shot glasses onto the counter with enthusiasm. The comforting sensation of the warmth spreading into your arms and legs, permeating the rest of your body was far more pleasant than the scorch in your throat, and was well worth it. Neither of you particularly liked Fireball, as it was a bit offensive, even for your tastes, but it was always best to hit something strong first. Take the worst hit first, and the rest will seem better in comparison. No warmups for you two, never was.

The barman refilled both glasses, all three of you noting that the deeply yellow bottle with the red label was almost empty. You wiped the speck of booze from your lip, and Nick shivered again, slightly. You considered making a jab at him for not being able to handle it, but it HAS been a while, to be fair. You didn't take it much better.

He smirked at you, and raised the glass to an inch away from his lips. As he spoke, you could see his breath fogging up the outside of the glass.

"Alright, this one's gonna go down for me no problem."

You paused briefly, before both of you instinctually knock back the glasses in unison, putting the alcohol into the back of your throat and swallowing it quickly as possibly as to avoid it hitting your tastebuds like a horse bucking you in the jaw. With a second routine slam to the counter, you stare at the wood for a brief second to not let Nick see your grimace, before looking back up to him and saying

"Hey.. Isn't that the same thing you said about that girl you were dating a few months ago?"

He gets a quick look of realization before you both laugh lightly. Crookshank rolls his eyes and pours the last of the dreaded amber liquid into the two glasses. He takes the bottle into the back to do whatever bartenders do with empty bottles, presumably throw them in the trash, but moreso he used it as an excuse to get some peace and quiet for a few seconds. Most bartenders were talkative, that's the main part of their job, but Crookshank literally was too grizzled and old to even pretend to give a shit.

Nick takes his glass in his hand, but you aren't quite ready for the third one so soon, you'll give it another second. He notices that you don't grab yours and begins to swish his around, staring at the liquid swirling inside. He spoke.

"I dunno, did I?"

What you asked was rhetorical, but apparently it got him thinking anyway. You decided to go along with it. Usually the feels don't start quite so soon, but might as well probe about it a bit. Last time you two met he casually mentioned that there was a girl who might've been interested in him, that's about all you could remember. You piped up.

"Yeah, weren't you dating some chick a little back?"

He looked up at you, not saddened or anything, just kind of... I dunno, a slight melancholy.

"Dude.." He paused. "I mean, like, yeah, but..." Another pause. You briefly wondered if you might've accidentally struck the wrong chord.

"We broke up like two months ago. I mean, it was pretty meh, her and I obviously weren't working out, so..." He finally trailed off.

You saw what was wrong. He didn't really seem to care so much about the girl. Truth be told, he never seemed to care much about dating or being romantic with people. Not to imply that he's awkward or anything, he's certainly not a virgin, he made sure you knew all about that. Hey, you two were 15, of course he'd be bragging about it to his best friend for weeks after it happened. He just, didn't seem to date a whole lot. Even though he obviously could, considering how charming he really was.

It wasn't talking about some girl that made him suddenly get quiet. It was the fact that you didn't know about it. It was a part of growing up, you two just don't have the time to talk or hang out like you used to. You both knew it happened, of course not happened to everyone. Still though, it's never fun to be reminded of something like that. You two used to talk every single day, keep each other updated about every single little thing. It just wasn't possible anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

It was unpleasant, to say the least. Neither of you wanted to explore the subject further. You shared a knowing look, and you went for your glass. Nick saw this, and decided to finish his off as well. As you were turning back to him, drink in hand, his chin was turned upwards accepting the contents of the tiny glass. For whatever reason, in that instance, you couldn't help but be mesmerized by the fluidity of it. It was almost in slow motion, and you could nearly trace the alcohol as it moved from his mouth down, making a small wave travel down his throat before disappearing into him.

Shit, you must already be starting to feel the buzz. Such fascination with minute little details like that were always an early warning sign. However, you managed to reclaim your focus before he recovered from the hit. Not wanting to seem like you didn't wanna keep up, you decided to hurry up and put yours down while you still had the chance to catch up.

Your wrapped your fingers around the glass. You let it sit on the counter for another second as you got up the fortitude to be able to take it. You absently wondered if you were holding the glass too tigh, as your fingers were beginning to tingle slightly as the substance began to take effect on your sense. You absently purse your lips as you prepare to shotgun the glass back for hopefully the last time.

The somewhat depressing connotations of the last few turns in the conversation had just about dissipated by the time the next order of drinks came out. You aren't sure what Nick had ordered for you two, but the dark liquid in the cup popped and fizzed around swirling cubes of ice floating on the top.

You reached your hand out and grabbed the glass. The teardrops of condensation which had been forming on the glass surface met your hand with a chill. Though, after a long, hot, dry day at work, it felt heavenly to you. You lifted it it to your lips, and wetted them before taking a sip of the drink. It was fruity and sweet, with a slight tang in the back of your throat to it caused by the soda. Of course you recognized the flavor- Some sort of tropical rum of some sort, mixed into what was almost certainly Dr. Pupper.

Nick lets out a satisfied sigh. Apparently, he had just taken a sip of his own glass. You hadn't noticed before due to the fact that you were zoning out, even though you were looking him right in the face. He continues to overdo his apparent enjoyment of the drink by adding "Ah, can't go wrong with a coconut run, huh anon?"

It was only a few seconds after he said that did you realize he asked you a question. It was fairly rhetorical, a non-question that he asked out of nothing more than a want to spur a conversation onwards. However, in your inebriated state, it took your mind a moment to catch up with what it had heard. You remembered the first time you had tried coconut rum. You decidedto bring it up to him. Of course he'd remember, but it seemed like a good enough topic as any to go off on.

"Yeah... Can't go wrong with it. Except for the first time, remember that? Kinda went wrong with it then."

He looked into your eyes for a split second, all brain power seeming to have suddenly left his physical body. Suddenly, his eyes lit up with, and a contagious grin began to from at the corners of his mouth, illiciting you to do the same. He spoke.

"Yeah, how could I forget that one? My mom was pissed when she found out."

"I don't think I remember, the memory is kind of... hazy, for SOME strange reason. How did we et ourselves caught again?"

Images of your mom screeching at you the second you got home started to pile into your memory. And you were all but certain that the same happened to Nick the second you left. He seemed almost surprised that you didn't remember how such a cleverly laid plan to waste.

"C'mon man, for real? You really don't remember? Our parents were so pissed I'd have thought it'd be scarred into your brain."

You shook your head half heartedly. That was probably nearly 17 years ago. You two were 15, max. Though you were certain it was something obvious and stupid that you two did to oust yourselves, you couldn't remember specifically. With a shrug of your shoulders, he began to remind you of that night.

"Alright, so, you remember how we got it, right? Remember how excited we were to try it?"


End file.
